Forever and Ever
by bandobaby101
Summary: George is devastated after the loss of his twin, and the only person who can help him has vanished. Can George take control of his life again?
1. Chapter 1

"_Don't look so down. I'll be back within the year."_

_I looked towards where the voice was coming from. Amber stood in the open doorway of the Burrow, wearing that obnoxiously cute half smile of her. Hesitantly, I took a step toward her. She just turned her head to look over her shoulder, and then turned her attentions back to me._

"_Trust me, George, I'll be back before the last leaves fall." She turned to leave._

"_Amber, wait," I called out. She didn't stop, and I ran after her to the outside. But as soon as my foot hit the threshold, the world changed. Everything went black, as dark as the Peruvian Instant Blackness powder, and just as sudden. I couldn't see Amber anywhere. Blindly, I stumbled forward, hoping to see that smiling face of hers once more._

"_Amber!" I called out. The darkness became heavy, like tendrils of something or other grabbing me, holding me back from my goal. Soon, I wasn't walking but swimming through the dark._

"_AMBER!" I screamed. My throat went completely numb, and I still couldn't make heads or tails of the darkness._

"_She won't come, mate," a familiar voice said. "She's been long gone for awhile now."_

"_No," I whispered. I pushed forward, hoping to make a dent in the thickness of the dark. Behind me, I heard familiar footsteps that went with the voice._

"_George, listen mate, Amber's gone. She's not coming back."_

"_She has to come back, she promised!" I spun towards the voice, but there was nobody there. I turned in place, but there was nobody around me. "Where are you?"_

"_Here." In front of me, my twin brother appeared, exactly as I remembered._

I darted awake, reaching forward for the image of Fred. But as I sat up, I felt familiar tears brimming in my eyes. It had been two years since the Great War, Fred was as dead as dead could get, but I felt broken as ever. And Amber….

"Amber!" I sobbed. It had been three years since Amber left on a mission for the Order. She never returned when the war ended. Grabbing up my pillow, I hurled it at the far wall and, placing my head heavily on my hands, I sobbed for my lost brother and my lost friend.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Every day, he got up, put on whatever was clean, and wandered to the nearby school for work. He arrived, right on time, and performed his job impeccably. As soon as his shift was done, he clocked out. In fact, in terms of his precision and punctuality, George Weasley's supervisors couldn't complain. But the haunted air he carried about him set them on edge. The last thing they needed was a janitor committing suicide, so they watched George like hawks.

George didn't care. They could watch him as long as they'd like, but there would be no answers visible. The only thing they might find out that they didn't already know about was his habit of staring blankly into space for hours at a time when he was home, but that didn't matter. Nothing mattered anymore.

On another ordinary day, George finished locking up his brooms and mops and headed home, stopping along the way to buy a new package of socks. Weary, he opened his door and stepped into his house, only to find somebody already there.

"Bloody hell, George, you look like shit."

"Go away, Bill," George said, throwing his keys on the counter and wandering to the only chair in the room.

"I would, but I promised Mum I'd try to talk some sense into you if I found you," Bill said, propping himself on the counter. "She's worried sick about you. Actually, the whole family's worried about you, George. Why don't you come visit us for a spell?"

"What's the point?" George said. He leaned forward and put his head on his hands. "Everything's different now. What's the point of waking up anymore?"

"Well, you obviously see some point in waking up." Bill got up from his perch and wandered over to his younger brother. "Fred wouldn't want to see you doing this to yourself."

"Fred's gone," George muttered. "What am I without him?" Bill shifted uncomfortably at this statement. He knew he'd have some trouble getting through to George, but he wasn't expecting the situation to be this bad.

"Come on, George. Harry's coming to my place tonight for dinner. You should come, too. Reconnect."

"Just leave me alone, Bill."

"Please?"

"Leave!" George roared, looking up from his hands. Bill took a hesitant half step back, and George let his head sink back to his hands. "I left that world. There's nothing left for me there."

"You're wrong, George," Bill said. Slowly, he gathered up his cloak from where he flung it earlier and headed to the front door. "Our family's there, and they still love you very much. You should come back. Think about it." And with that, Bill opened the door and stepped into the fading light.

George stayed slumped into his seat, a stray tear rolling down his cheek. Bill wouldn't be able to understand. And, as much as he loved his mum and the rest of his family, they could never understand. His pain went deeper than that of a lost twin. Slowly, he reached into the drawer of the small side table he kept next to his chair. Inside was the only connection George had left to the wizarding world: a magical picture of him and a girl with long black hair. The tears poured more freely down his face as he pulled out a small hand mirror and looked at his reflection. With a cry of sorrow, George bowed his head over the mirror and photo.

* * *

**A/N:** I know, I know, you're probably confused as anything. Yes, there are supposed to be two different POVs. I plan to start each chapter with something from George's POV, then continue the plot with 3rd person POV. Amber is an OC, her entire story will be told in the course of this tale. And yes, George has removed himself from complete contact with anything and everything magic, except for the one picture.


	2. Chapter 2

I remember the first time I saw Amber, standing with the other first years as we waited to get sorted. Her dark hair was cut ridiculously short and her gray eyes observing everything. She wasn't much, but I will never forget how she reacted when her name was called to be Sorted. She visibly flinched. It was as if she was expecting judgment to rain down on her from all the other students. It was fascinating. What would cause a seemingly ordinary girl named Amber Halbert to react that way? I had to find out.

I was thrilled when she was Sorted into Gryffindor, especially when I was Sorted into Gryffindor not long after. I had to know what made her tick, she was such an oddity.

My eye's brimmed up with tears. Even at eleven years of age, Amber has caught my fascination, holding it with every fiber of her being without her knowledge. I miss her so damn much.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

George was finishing his usual Tuesday routine when he heard the alarm go off. Wiping away a few stray tears from his eyes, he hurried to the hall to see what the hell was going on.

Everything was deserted, as it well should be hours after school has let out for the day. There was nothing there. Slowly, George walked down the halls, looking for whatever set the alarm off. In the distance, he heard sirens as the fire department raced to the school. Instead of getting out, George continued his search. As long as he had worked there, the fire alarm has never gone off except for drills. Why it would be going off now, he had no idea, especially since he has been through almost the entire school and had yet to find the source of the alarm. When he approached the teacher's meeting room, however, he stopped. There was a light flickering on the other side of the glass.

Carefully, George crept to the door, listening for something beyond the increasingly louder fire truck sirens. Years of habit had George reaching for a wand he no longer owned, and his other hand reached for the doorknob. Just as he was about to fling it open, he paused. He no longer used magic, what was he doing about to open the door on a potentially magical situation? He turned to leave, but stopped when he heard a familiar voice on the other side of the door.

"Bloody hell!" George yelled, flinging open the door to find Ron putting out the fire in the fireplace. "I told Bill to leave me alone! That means you as well."

"Well, sorry, mate, but it was either me or Hermione, and I figured you'd rather face me," Ron mumbled.

"I don't want to face anyone," George said. "Put out that fire. The firemen will be here any minute and they'll have a lot of questions about a green fire."

"Is that what that awful racket is?" Ron asked as he put out the fire.

"How the hell did you get here by Floo Powder anyway, this is a Muggle school," George asked, blatantly ignoring Ron's question. Ron flushed.

"I, um, I had Percy pull some strings for me, you know, because I figured it would be easier for you to come home if, you know, a door was already open…"

"I'm not coming home, Ron." George grabbed his brother's arm and pulled him from the room and down the hall. When they reached an exit, he threw Ron through it before following. "My life is here now."

"Some life." Ron pulled himself from the ground and glared at George. "Bill said you have nothing in that apartment of yours, not even food. And he said it smelled like you haven't cleaned it in centuries."

"What would you have me do, Ron?" Ron flinched. Never before had he seem such wild abandon in George's eyes, and it scared him. "My life is over! Without Fred, I am nothing! My life has no meaning!"

Ron stepped towards George, but stopped before he could touch them. The sirens finally reached the school, and Ron looked around in shock. "Don't make me do this, George." George didn't answer, tears welling in his eyes. Ron stepped back.

"I hate to do this, but desperate times call for desperate measures." And with that, Ron Disapparated as the firefighters rounded the corner.

* * *

**A/N:** Yes, this chapter's shorter. They'll get longer, though, especially once I start getting George out of his slump. Which will start happening next chapter, and will feature a point my friend brought up while I was discussing this with her.


	3. Chapter 3

I remember hearing about her family for the first time. She never mentioned a father, and by this point I was smart enough not to bring it up. I didn't hear about her father until our fifth year, and I'm still not sure about why she chose to tell me that information.

She came to me not long after the train left Hogsmeade Station, and I can still feel my heart pound in my chest. Amber never approached me except to enact revenge for whatever prank I had pulled on her recently. But, still, I couldn't help but hope that once she would come to me for something else.

"Can I talk to you, George?" she asked. I nodded, my throat clenched in fear. This couldn't be good. I motioned for the empty seat by the window, but Amber looked pointedly at Fred and Lee. "Can I talk to you alone?" she added, and then turned and walked down to what I assumed was her carriage. Slowly, I stood up, but Fred grabbed my arm.

"Are you off your rocker?" he hissed. "That's Amber who's asking you to talk, not some nansy-pansy Hufflepuff who wouldn't hurt a fly."

"I know who it is." And I knew what she was capable of. Not many other students would attempt to pull a prank on me and succeed, but Amber has pulled a few whoppers, and always in revenge. "She's not going to do something on the Hogwarts' Express."

"You don't know that."

"I won't know if I don't go," I said, wrenching my arm from my twin's grasp. Slowly, I headed out the door and down the corridor in the direction I had seen her go. She was sitting in a carriage not far from where Fred and Lee were, looking out the window at the retreating landscape. I slowly entered, shut the door and sat down across from her. I don't know how long we sat there. I know I was antsy, but I was antsy from the beginning, completely unsure of what she was planning.

"Amber Halbert isn't my real name."

I blinked. The silence had gone on for so long that I wasn't sure what quite happened. She turned her gray eyes to look at me, and I fidgeted slightly. Finally, what she said made sense.

"If that's not your real name, what is?" I asked. I know it was probably stupid. This was Amber I was talking about. She was more likely to bite me than answer me. Actually, she was more likely to ignore me and go to a different carriage than either bite or answer me. But I was curious.

"Its Amber Black." Again, I blinked, but only because she said it so softly I wasn't sure if I heard her correctly or not.

"Black? As in Sirius Black."

"Exactly like Sirius Black," she said. She sighed, turning her attention back to the landscape. "He's my father."

Suddenly, things began connecting. She had been more antsy than usual this year, freaking out more often when people approached her or brought up the subject of Sirius Black's escape within her ear shot. And every time one of those attacks happened inside the castle, she positively went bonkers. As I was thinking about this, her eyes snapped back to me.

"You tell anyone, Weasley, and I'll curse you to Timbuktu and back. Got it?"

"I won't tell," I said, my hands waving in defeat. "But I do have a question." She scowled at me, but I pressed on. "Why the hell are you telling me?"

Her scowl broke, and she looked out the window again. "I don't know," she muttered. "I guess, even with all the crap you pull with me, I feel like I can trust you." I think my heart skipped a beat.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

By the time George finished talking to the firefighters, the police, and everyone else, he was done. He had so much pressure and tension built up, not to mention a whole bunch of resentment towards Ron, he could barely see straight as he stumbled home, the stray tear escaping his eyes. When he finally reached his apartment, he was thankful for the peace and quiet he had in his home, and as he situated himself in his chair with his photo and mirror, a small sense of peace settled into his heart.

As he stared at his reflection and his picture, something Bill said came back to him. No, Fred would not want George to waste his life like this. But it was more than that. Amber wouldn't like it. In fact, if she were here, she'd call him a baffling idiot and throw random curses, many that were invented by her, at him until he stopped moping and got back to life. George chuckled humorlessly at the thought, tears brimming in his eyes again, when somebody knocked at his door.

Startled, George got up and went to open it, completely confused as to who would come visit his house. He didn't have any Muggle friends, and the only people who knew where he lived were his employers and the police. He opened the door to find Hermione standing there.

"Bill's right, this place is a disaster," she said, pushing her way in before George even had time to register the fact that she was there. "When was the last time you cleaned?"

"Hermione, why are you here?" George asked, following her into his house.

"Bill said he found you, and you won't listen to common sense," she said, whipping out her wand and performing some simple cleaning spells. "Ron said he stopped by today and you threw him out by his coattails."

"He deserved it. He got me in trouble with the fire department." Hermione threw him a look, but kept on cleaning.

"You know, living cooped up in here isn't your style. You should go back to making joke products."

"I sold the shop." George wandered back to his chair and sat down. Getting rid of Hermione was not going to be easy, but he had to get her out of there and on with his life.

"Your mum still doesn't know we found you, or else she'd be here," Hermione continued. "We figured it be best if we got you to go home before your mum had a crack at you."

"You're too kind," George mumbled, "and who are 'we?'"

"Your brothers, Ginny, Harry and I," Hermione stopped cleaning and turned to look at George. "We've been hunting all over England. When you never returned from your trip to find Amber, we got worried." George flinched. Hearing her name fall so easily of Hermione's lips cut him. Hermione noticed, and stopped.

"Oh, George, this is more than the loss of Fred, isn't it." George half shrugged. Hermione pursed her lips and came over to George's side. "Did you find any sign of her while you looked?"

"Nothing," he whispered. "Some wizards at an inn think they remember seeing her, but that was it." Hermione sat by George's side as he struggled with the memory. "She wasn't anywhere. I can't believe she just completely vanished."

"George…"

"The worst part," George sobbed, "is knowing she might be out there somewhere, a prisoner of a Death Eater, perhaps, and not being able to do anything about it because Dumbledore only told Amber the entire mission and nobody else, and he can't do anything about it because he upped and died on us."

"George, we don't know what happened to Amber. She probably got lost or something on the way back." Hermione noticed the picture and the mirror and picked them up. "And crying over her picture every night isn't going to bring her back. Neither is crying at your reflection."

"How can you expect me to go on, Hermione?" The look George gave Hermione was heart wrenching, but Hermione held strong.

"Because, George, if Amber is still alive out there, and does manage to make her way back here, how do you think she'd feel if she found out her best friend just completely gave up living because she was missing and his twin was dead."

George thought about it. He knew she wouldn't be happy. George was supposed to be her rock, not the other way around. And Hermione was right. Amber could still be out there, lost and confused, maybe, or just hiding. George couldn't give up on her yet.

"Fine," George said. "You, Bill, and Ron win. I'll come home."

"Good," Hermione said. "Because I wasn't planning on leaving until you said as much. Now, let's go. If we don't get to the Burrow before midnight, Bill will tell your mum where you're hiding."

George flinched, but he got up, packed his few belongings, and followed Hermione to the fireplace, which she cleaned and lit with a flick of her wand. Pulling out a small bag from her pocket, she handed it to George and said, "You first." Gingerly, George took a pinch, threw it into the fire, and stepped in.


	4. Chapter 4

The summer before our seventh year, Amber finally met her dad again. I knew it was only a matter of time, especially since her mum had her running messages because she was too cowardly to face her husband again. But Lupin had my mum under strict orders to not let Sirius anywhere near where Amber would be when she stopped by. I guess he was afraid of Amber's reaction if she finally did meet her father again. But Amber got around Lupin's restriction. Somehow, I knew she would. She was Sirius's daughter, after all.

Fred and I were in the kitchen with Sirius when it happened. We were comparing notes on the Marauder's expeditions in Hogwarts with our own, and were impressed, when we were interrupted by some yelling by the main door, which was quickly joined by Sirius's dear old mum. Sirius took off, and Fred and I exchanged looks before taking off after him.

"Shut up!" Sirius shouted at his mum, and it was quickly followed by the usual insults. I heard some grunts as the curtains were drawn over her face, and Fred and I arrived in the entrance hall to see Amber standing there. She was staring at Sirius, and he was looking at her like he had seen a ghost.

"Well," Lupin muttered from where he stood. It was one of his few ventures back to Grimmauld Place. "I guess the secret's out now."

"You knew?" Sirius asked. "You knew my daughter was coming here and you never told me?" Behind me, I heard Fred whisper, "Daughter?"

"Sirius, please." Lupin ran his hands through his hair. "You have no idea what your imprisonment did to your family."

"I would have liked to know my daughter was coming to the place I was in so I could at least decide for myself what was best for her!" Sirius looked ready to maul Lupin, but Amber ended it by walking up to Sirius and slapping him. I winced. I had been on the receiving line of a few of those myself, and they bloody hurt. But what happened next surprised everyone in the room. Amber completely broke down. She fled up the stairs, leaving a bewildered Sirius and Lupin behind. A few seconds later, Sirius went to follow.

"Are you mad?" Lupin asked. "She needs time to herself, not you coming to talk to her."

"I'm her father," Sirius replied. "I should explain to her what really happened, if she'll listen." And he continued up the steps. I guess she listened, because when they came down later, Amber was in a better mood, and Sirius looked happier than he had been in a long time.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Well, look what the cat dragged in." George shook his head. It had been so long since he used Floo Powder, the sensation had been forgotten. Once he got his bearings, he looked up to who had spoken. Sitting around the kitchen table were Bill, Harry, and Ron. George barely got a look at them before a sea of red blinded him.

"Hullo, Ginny," George said, grabbing his younger sister's arms to prevent the death grip she had on him from breaking his neck. Once he could see again, he looked at the table. "Hello Harry."

"Good to see you again, George," Harry said, standing up and coming over. He held out his hand and George took it. "But if you ever pull something like that again, I'll get Kingsley to put the whole Auror department on your ass until you're found." George flinched. Being hunt down by Aurors did not sound like fun.

"I'll keep that in mind," George said. "Now, if you don't mind, can I go clean up a bit before you let Mum know I'm back?" He looked around at his family and friends expectantly, but he didn't like the grin on Bill's and Ron's faces.

"Sorry, mate," Bill said. "As soon as we realized it was you coming through the fireplace, I sent Fleur to get Mum."

"Of course you did," George muttered. He resigned himself to sitting down at the table, but he barely managed that before his mum burst into the kitchen.

"Look at the state you're in!" Mrs. Weasley called out. George flinched as she pulled on his overly long hair and scrutinized his clothes. "When was the last time you ate a proper meal?" With a flick of her wand, pots and pans began flying, food began chopping itself, and clean clothes came flying into the kitchen. "Go change, now. Soup will be ready when you get back."

George left the kitchen and made his way up the familiar staircase, closely followed by Bill and Ron. When George got to the door of his old room, however, he paused.

"Here, George," Ron said. He headed towards the stairs to his room. "Come use my room. It's a bit messy, but it'll do."

"No." George reached out for the knob, and his hand was visibly shaking. "I need to do this." Ron and Bill watched as George grabbed the doorknob and stood there. George's face was set in concentration, focusing so hard on the simple act of opening a door to a room.

But this wasn't just any room. This was the room he and Fred performed most of their experiments. They played there together growing up, listened to Percy's god-awful bedtime stories and Bill's fascinating ones. They plotted their latest pranks and thought up new ways to toe the line without going overboard. There was so much memory just sitting there, locked behind a door that had been closed for over two years.

"I can't," George whispered.

"Hey, it's no big deal," Bill said, throwing an arm over his brother's shoulders. "You can try again later. Right now, though, let's get you to Ron's room and changed before Mum comes looking for you." George nodded, and Bill led him up the stairs. But before they went much further, George threw a glance over his shoulder. The one memory that hurt too much to open the door still lingered. It was in his room that Amber told him that she might have left Hogwarts had he not been there, and she was thankful that he had been there.

"Here," Ron said, opening his door. "Watch out for stuff and things, I haven't cleaned it in awhile." George looked back and smiled. The bright orange walls were still the same, and piles of old school books and such were scattered everywhere.

"Have you ever cleaned?" George teased.

"Once, I think, and only because Mum threatened me."

George shook his head. He could tell his brothers were treating him with caution, and he was both glad and saddened. They wanted him to live a normal life again, so they should treat him like everything was normal. But George wasn't sure he could handle the weight of that right now.

"Here, George, Ron and I'll wait outside," Bill said, towing Ron out by the arm. "But don't go Disapparating on us. Mum will throw a fit, and Harry will make due on his promise to get the Aurors on your tail."

"Don't worry about me," George said. "I haven't Apparated in two years. I don't intend to restart now." Bill frowned, but closed the door behind him. Once he was gone, though George didn't start changing. Instead, he tossed the clothes on Ron's bed and went to go look out the window.

"Amber," he whispered. He closed his eyes and rested his forehead against the cool glass. He hoped what Hermione said was true, that Amber would find her way back to him. Maybe then he could figure out a way to pull his life back together and move on.

"Hey, hurry up in there!" Ron called out. "Mum says the soup's done, so you better get down there before she comes up." With a wince, George pulled himself away from the window and started to change, knowing full well that he wouldn't be able to go hunt for Amber again until he convinced his family he wasn't going to up and disappear again. When he opened the door, Bill gave him an appraising look.

"Well, you've definitely lost some weight," he said. "Not surprising since you lived on, what, air and dust while you lived in that apartment?"

"I ate," George protested. "Just not much." He followed his brothers down the stairs, but stopped when he reached his room again.

"George, don't overdo it," Bill said, poking his head back up when he realized George was no longer following. "Its going to be hard, especially since you've never really given yourself time to heal. Try again in a few weeks. Maybe you'll be able to open it then."

"I know," George whispered. But instead of following, he reached out for the doorknob again. This time, he gripped the doorknob hard and thought strongly about opening it. But nothing happened. No matter how hard he willed his hand to open the door, he just couldn't.

Bill sighed. "Come on, Earless, before Mum comes up to find you." Slowly, George pulled away from the door and followed Bill downstairs. Bill was right, it would take time to heal, but time was not something George had if he wanted to find Amber.

* * *

**A/N**: I know this is the fourth chapter in less than 24 hours. And the only reason I'm able to pump out these chapters at this pace is because I got into an hour and a half brainstorming session with my friend where I was bouncing my general plan off her and she was responding with, "I can see soandso doing this." But now, unfortunately, I must stop the flow of writing because I have homework calling my name and finals to study for.


	5. Chapter 5

When Sirius died, I thought I lost Amber. She came to my store the day after she got back from school, and she was in such a daze. I remember smiling when I saw her. She had become such a fixture in my life, I couldn't imagine what life would have been without her. But something was off. She walked to the counter, almost trampling a couple of younglings who happened to be in her way.

"You feel okay?" I asked when she got to the counter.

"Yea, sure," she muttered. I felt my smile slide off my face. The offness rolled off Amber like a fog. I reached out and touched her hand.

"He was a great guy," I whispered. "But he'd be upset if he saw how you were taking his death." She looked at my hand in confusion, then lifted her eyes to look at my face.

"I know," she whispered. Pulling her hand out from under mine, she turned to leave. "I have to go." I didn't see her again for a month.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

When George woke up, he was confused. The bright orange walls were definitely not the walls in his apartment, and there were sounds coming from the room. Just as he was about to get up to investigate, memory of the previous nights events flooded into his head. After he finished eating everything his mum put before him, George had gone to bed, trying one more time to open his room's door before crashing on a camp bed set up in Ron's room.

Slowly, he slipped out of bed, careful not to wake Ron. Pulling on some clean clothes left in a pile by the bed by his mum, he slipped out of Ron's room and down to his room. Standing there, he thought about everything that has happened to him the past two years. All the pain he felt, the need to escape the magical world, the relief in the monotonous tasks of cleaning the muggle elementary school day in and day out. Pushing the pain aside, he reached out to the door.

Again, he managed to grip the doorknob, but he couldn't convince himself to turn it. Opening the door would mean accepting the memories and the pain associated with those memories. George didn't know how long he stood there, but he eventually let go of the doorknob. This wasn't getting him anywhere. Hearing the rattling of pots and pans from the kitchen, George started moving downstairs.

At the bottom of the stairs, George stopped and detoured outside to the familiar sight of the landscape of his childhood. This, too, had memories, but they were nowhere near as painful as the ones his bedroom contained. Slowly, he made his way to a bench propped against the garden wall and sat down, absorbing everything he saw.

A gnome ran by, and George followed it with his eyes, chuckling. All the times he and Fred were out here de-gnoming the garden, especially after the time they flew the car to Surrey to free Harry from his uncle and aunt, brought fresh tears to his eyes, but he wiped them away. The gnome stopped and turned to stare at George. The way it was appraising him was peculiar, especially for a gnome. Slowly, George stood up, watching the peculiar gnome. The gnome did nothing; it just continued to stare at George with unwonted curiosity.

"George, is that you in the gardens?" Mrs. Weasley's voice rang from the kitchen. George flinched, and the gnome scurried off.

"Yes, Mum." He looked around for the gnome, but couldn't find it again. He found plenty of other gnomes, but not the one who was so curious in him.

"Well, come inside and eat! Breakfast's ready." Sighing, George made his way into the kitchen and sat down in his chair. His mother hurried over and started filling a plate for him.

"What are your plans for today?" she asked, leaving the skillet full of eggs on the table and summoning another skillet full of sausage from the stove. "Are you and your brothers going to practice Quidditch in that clearing?"

George stopped chewing. He hadn't actually thought about it much, what he'd do once he returned to the wizarding world. Hermione didn't give him much time to think about anything. In fact, it was odd to not be on his way to the muggle school right now. It had been his life for so long, he was unsure about what to do. But the more George thought about it, one fact became evident. There was one thing missing to really and truly bring him back into the wizarding world, and the sooner he got it, the better. "I'd like to go to Diagon Alley, actually."

There was a loud clatter from the stove as the pots and pans Mrs. Weasley were controlling fell. "Are you sure, dear? Diagon Alley?"

"Well, I need a new wand," George said offhandedly. "If I'm going to survive in the wizarding world again, a new magic stick would probably be helpful."

"And what happened to your old wand?"

"Oh," George looked out the window. The truth was he snapped it in half and threw it into the Mediterranean Sea when he couldn't find Amber, but Mrs. Weasley would beat him around the head with a broom if he told her as much. "I don't know, actually. I must have misplaced it when sometime when I lived like a muggle. It wasn't anywhere when I packed."

"Well, then," Mrs. Weasley sighed. She looked out the window at stray chickens, but turned back to her son. "When Ron gets up, the two of you can go to Diagon Alley. I have some things you can pick up for me while you're there."

"Mmm-hmm." George resumed eating, stopping only to look out the window and wonder about that mysterious little gnome. It shouldn't have bothered him as much, but the way the gnome looked at him, almost as if it knew something he didn't, the thought just couldn't get out of his head.

"Oh, good, you're still here," Ron mumbled, half tripping down the stairs in his hurry. "Thought you'd vanished on us again."

"And miss the sight of ickle Ronniekins in his maroon pajamas, no thanks," George teased. Ron's face turned scarlet.

"I'll have you know that Mum knitted me these pajamas for Christmas last year, and she knitted…" Ron stopped. George looked at him funny, but Ron just shook his head. Mrs. Weasley had knitted Fred and George sweaters, as she had every year, and every year Mr. Weasley and his sons buried the sweaters by Fred's gravestone.

"What were you saying, Ron? I couldn't hear you through this hole in my head," George said with a sweeping gesture to his decapitated ear.

"Nothing." Ron plopped down and started piling eggs and sausage on his plate. "I was just commenting on how nice and warm these pajamas are, and Mum should probably knit you a pair."

"Maybe." George began counting in his head. He had a fair bit of gold stocked in his vault in Gringotts from Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes, so he wouldn't have to ask Mrs. Weasley for money to purchase the new wand. And maybe he could swing by his old shop, see how the new proprietors were dealing with business.

"Oh, by the way, we're going to Diagon Alley when you're done to get me a new wand," George said. Ron choked on some sausage.

"What happened to your old one?"

"It got lost. Now finish eating so we can go." George got up and left the table, leaving a bewildered Ron to choke down the remainder of his food. George would leave the trip to his old store to the end. Ron would definitely try to stop him, but George felt an appearance at the shop might just give him the boost he needed to open his bedroom door and start him on the path to find Amber.


	6. Chapter 6

According to my mum, she was cooking dinner when Amber just wandered into the yard. Apparently, she hurried Amber into the kitchen and started feeding her while Ginny went and sent me an owl telling me to come home. I was at work.

"Letter from Mum," Fred said as he came into the back room. I was busy taking inventory, so I ignored him. "Oi! Didn't you hear me? Mum sent a letter and wants you home now."

"Why does she want me home now?"

"No idea, just go." Fred handed me the letter. "I'll get Lee to come down and help Verity before I leave."

I put down my clipboard and turned on the spot, reappearing by the front door of the Burrow. Still in my magenta robes, I strode in the house, expecting to get this over with quickly so I could get back to the store.

"Mum, what did you—oh." I stopped in my tracks. There was Amber, sitting at the kitchen table with a plateful of food in front of her. She was obviously in some type of shock, mindlessly eating what Mum put in front of her. I just stared at her for a second before drawing up a chair besides her and sitting down. Mum kept bustling over with more food.

"Mum, I think Amber has enough food."

"Nonsense, George," Mum said. "Look in the state she's in. She looks like she hasn't had a proper meal in months. Poor girl, probably still in shock over what happened…" Upstairs, I heard some scuffles and a thud.

"Mum! Hermione's gone and tripped down the stairs! I think she broke a bone!" Ginny's voice rang down the stairwell. I blinked. How Hermione managed to do that, I'm still not sure. I think Ginny had some part to play, but it was a good distraction, because not long after Mum left, Amber stopped eating with spoon in midair. She just stared at the wall, eyes brimming over with tears. I was confused. I had no idea what to do. Slowly, I raised my hand to touch her shoulder when Fred popped in.

"Oi! George, what's the--- Oh, hey Amber!" Amber jumped, and I glared at Fred, but he ignored me. "It's been awhile, where have you run off to? We were starting to think you'd abandoned us." He came and sat down across the table, and I started pointing at him and towards the other room. He continued to ignore me.

"You should come and see the store now, it's a sight. We've got all kinds of new material. You'd like some of it." I was ready to kill Fred. As he kept talking, Amber kept shrinking against the back of her chair. She was getting ready to bolt, and if she bolted I would have to chase her, and I did not want to chase her. Just as I was getting ready to curse Fred, Bill showed up.

"Hey, George, do you know where Mum is?" He stopped once he saw what was going on. Fred was still flapping his gums, I was clenching my wand, and Amber was shaking. Bill's mouth went round with surprise. A second later, he was back to business.

"Hey, Fred. Let's find Mum. Maybe she went to the attic." He walked by and grabbed Fred's arm.

"Oi!! Gerroff me! I was talking to Amber!" Fred yelled as Bill pulled him out. Bill ignored him, and I breathed a breath of relief as they left. Amber stopped shaking.

"Would you like to go for a walk?" I asked. She started shrinking at the sound of my voice, but relaxed and nodded. I quickly stood up and pulled her chair out and headed to the gardens. Amber followed, but once outside, I let her lead.

I saw Harry and Ron in the gardens, and I started worrying about Ron if he saw Amber, but I stopped worrying when I saw Harry notice us and point something out to Ron that was in a different direction from us. Then Ginny came out and practically dragged them inside. Other than that, though, our walk was quiet and uneventful.

Somehow, Amber led us to the Quidditch practice area my siblings and I used and sat down in the middle of it. I followed and sat next to her, saying nothing. I was unsure of how to comfort her because that could send her running, but I knew she needed comfort. Slowly, I raised my hand, but quickly brought it back. Finally, I told myself that I would rather chase Amber and bring her back than watch her suffer anymore and placed my hand gently on her shoulder.

I don't know what happened, but her head was buried in my shoulder and my robe was soaked within seconds. I awkwardly patted her back, thinking I should say something. Finally, I settled on, "It must be hard losing somebody who you just started to get to know." I felt her head nod slightly from its place on my shoulder. Feeling relieved, I just started to ramble, talking about anything and everything that came to mind. Eventually, Amber stopped crying and just dry sobbed. When Ginny found us later, we were talking about Quidditch, Amber's eyes long dry. As we walked back to the Burrow, her hand brushed mine. Whether it was on accident or on purpose, I still don't know. But I felt my heart soar with the touch.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Why did you have to tell Mum we were going to Diagon Alley?" Ron complained. In his hand he grasped Mrs. Weasley's shopping list, which was a good foot and a half long.

"Cheer up, Ron," George said. "It was either this or she locked me in your room all day."

"I would have preferred you locked in my room," Ron muttered. He didn't notice when George stopped in from of Eeylops Owl Emporium and ran into him.

"Oi! Watch where you're going!" George grabbed the list from Ron's hands and skimmed it. Ron rubbed his head from where it bounced off the wall.

"Whatchoo stop for?" Ron grumbled, grabbing the list back.

"Nothing," George shrugged. Secretly, he smiled. "I just thought Mum mentioned needing something from Eeylops, that's all."

"I thought you said we were going to Gringotts first to get you some money for your wand, then we were going to stop at Ollivander's, and then shop for Mum's stuff."

"Well, I didn't want to pass up Eeylops if there was something there Mum needed." George resumed walking, heading straight to the looming white building that took up a fair percentage of Diagon Alley. Ron scowled up George, but he ran to catch up.

"Why did you have to go and lose your wand, anyway?" Ron asked. "Talk about being careless." George ignored Ron and kept striding through the crowds. Occasionally, somebody would stop and stare, but for the most part was everyone ignored them.

"Keep up, Ron. I'm not waiting for once I get in Gringotts."

"You're avoiding the question." George stopped and turned to look at his brother. Ron was staring back with something behind his eyes George had never seen, a type of determination that was definitely not there before the war.

"If I tell you, Ron, you have to swear you'll never tell Mum, you hear." Ron flinched. Promising to keep a secret from Mrs. Weasley was like saying you'd love to spend a week in the Forbidden Forest. "If you tell, I curse you to a bloody pulp. Understand?"

"I won't tell Mum," Ron said. "What did you do to your wand?"

"Chucked it into the Mediterranean Sea."

"Are you crazy?" Ron yelled. "Why would you go and do something as stupid as that? Bloody hell, George, you'd think you had a death wish or something."

George resumed walking and let Ron rant. Honestly, he didn't care what Ron thought. What George believed when he chucked his wand into the Mediterranean was the same thing he believed now: There was a vacuum in the wizarding world with Amber gone.

George stopped when they reached the stairs to Gringotts, waiting for Ron to stop ranting long enough to get a word in edgewise. But, if Ron was ranting this much about a wand, George could imagine Ron's reaction when they went to the shop. Ron paused to catch his breath, and George jumped in.

"Merlin's pants, Ron, you'd think it was your wand I chucked into the Mediterranean and not mine," George said. He climbed the stairs and waited for his brother to catch up, holding the door open. "And you tell Mum, I'll tell Hermione you told Mum."

Ron blanched. "You wouldn't dare." George just grinned and followed his brother into the lobby of the bank.

When they emerged half an hour later, George was practically itching with the anticipation of seeing his old shop. The idea that he was so near to his goals was tantalizing. But first, he had to deal with Mrs. Weasley's shopping list.

"Where to, Ronnie?" George asked. Ron gritted his teeth and pulled out the list.

"Flourish and Blotts," Ron read. "Mum needs a new remedies book for some odd reason." George frowned. He knew exactly why Mrs. Weasley made the list, to keep George busy enough that he won't have time to go visit his old shop. But that wouldn't stop him. He'd get there, somehow.

"To Flourish and Blotts it is, then!" George yelled, holding his arms up like he was leading a charge. "And after that, to Ollivander's!"

"Why can't we go to Ollivander's first?" Ron complained.

"Because, dear brother, we already did something for me, now it's time to do something for Mum. And then we do something for me again." George stopped to let a group of children run past and shot a look at his brother. "Besides, Mum doesn't really expect us to buy everything on her list. We'll only buy a few things, like her remedy book and the stuff from the apothecary, and head home."

"I'm not sure that's a good idea…"

"Course it is!" George could see the entire plan in his head. After a quick stop at Flourish and Blotts, a swing by Ollivander's, and a rummage through the Apothecary, George would lead Ron down to where Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes was located. It was foolproof!

Ron scratched his head and looked at the list again. "But what about broom handle polish? That seems pretty important."

"There's a whole bottle of it in the pantry," George opened the door of Flourish and Blotts and hustled his brother in. "I checked while you were taking your time getting dressed."

"I guess you're right, then." Ron looked around Flourish and Blotts, a befuddled look on his face. He opened his mouth to say something, but George strode off. Ron scurried to catch up. "Do you have any idea where you're going?"

"Sure I do." He stopped at a seemingly ordinary aisle and picked up a book from a shelf not far over his head. Handing it to Ron, George said, "Check the title to the list."

Ron shook his head. "You baffle me," he said. "Two days ago, we couldn't even get you to leave that place you called home, and now it's like nothing has chang-" Ron stopped speaking, but it was too late. The look George gave him was bone shattering.

"So much has changed, Ron," George whispered. "So much more has changed than you'd ever imagine." Then, taking the book, George went to pay, leaving Ron standing in the aisle, completely flummoxed.

As George walked past to leave, Ron hurried to catch up. "George, listen, I'm sorry, I spoke without thinking…"

"Like always."

"And I didn't mean anything by it. It was just nice having you back, you know like old times, before the war." George stopped and stared at Ron.

"You're a blabbering idiot, Ron," he said. "But I couldn't imagine not having you as a brother." Ron stared in shock as George continued outside, and followed in a daze as George headed to Ollivander's.

When they entered Ollivander's, George tensed. The sense of magic in the air was overwhelming, and George was sorely tempted to leave the store and come back another time to buy his wand. But the thought of Amber made him focus on the task at hand. From the back of the store came a shuffling sound, and Mr. Ollivander poked his head around the stacks of wands.

"Good evening, Mr. Weasley," Mr. Ollivander said, pulling boxes off the shelf. "I trust you'll treat this wand with better respect?" George flinched. Somehow, Mr. Ollivander always knew what was going on outside his shop.

"I'll try." Mr. Ollivander said nothing, instead handing George a wand. Carelessly, George flicked it, knowing nothing would happen. The process continued, and George went through six wands before he finally found one.

"Ah, yes, a good wand, very good indeed," Mr. Ollivander muttered. "Alder wood, not to be confused with elder wood, with a unicorn hair core. Eleven and a quarter inches. Fascinatingly sturdy." George just nodded. This wand felt more alive in his hand than his old wand did, and somehow George knew that this wand would help him free Amber.

"Thank you, Mr. Ollivander," George said, paying up. Mr. Ollivander just kept staring at George, and George shifted uneasily under the scrutiny. "Come on, Ron. We have more shopping to do." And with that, they left the shop.

"Do we need to hit the Apothecary?" Ron asked. "I mean, if Mum has broom polish, maybe she has this stuff as well."

"Sorry, Ronnie, everything from the Apothecary is needed." George twirled his new wand in his hands. There was just something about it that added to his confidence. Wherever Amber might be, he'd find her. "Hey, why don't you go to the Apothecary and get Mum her stuff. I want to check something out at Weas- I mean, Quality Quidditch Supplies."

"Yea, sure," Ron said, distracted by a gaggle of tourists. "I'll meet you there." George smiled and strode off. He was a good distance away from Ron, and very close to his old shop, when he heard a squeal of protest from Ron.

"Hey! George, wait up! I promised Mum I'd keep an eye on you at all times!"

"Well, good job you're doing at that," George smirked. Opening the door to his old shop, which now had a sign proclaiming Mystic Milton's Tricks and Toys, he waved Ron in. "You first." Unaware, Ron went in, followed closely by George.

"Wait, George," Ron stopped and tried to turn George around, "We shouldn't be here. Mum will skin me alive if she finds out we came here…" But George ignored Ron's ramblings.

"What the hell happened to my shop?" George yelled. Spying the man he sold it to, he marched over to him, wand gripped tightly in hand. The man quavered against the shelves as George held his wand high over head. "What did you do to my shop? And you better tell me quick, because I'm itching to curse you!"

* * *

**A/N**: Yes, its long. And I probably could have written more, but I decided to break the chapter up here. Alder and Elder are two different types of woods, so don't get confused there.


	7. Chapter 7

In our sixth year, I asked Amber to the Yule Ball. It was reckless, and not thought out, but I couldn't help myself.

Fred and I had gone to bed hours previous, but I couldn't sleep. My mind was churning over what we learned in Charms that day. I wasn't itching to do homework, far from it, but there was something about it that seemed like it would make a good joke product. I slipped from bed, pulled on my bathrobe, grabbed my Charms book, and headed to the common room.

I stopped at the bottom of the stairs. Amber was sitting in front of the dying embers of that days fire, head bowed over a book. Quietly, I turned to leave.

"I won't bite," Amber said. I turned back to her, and she flipped a page in her book. "It's too late at night, and I already brushed my teeth." That hasn't stopped her before, but I slowly made my way to the couch across from her and sat down.

"Why are you still up?" Amber looked at me, and I winced. I hadn't meant to say anything; it just slipped out, like a lot of stuff did when I was around Amber. She picked up her book from where it was resting on her leg, and I thought she was going to go to her dorm, but she showed me the cover instead.

"Getting ahead in Muggle Studies," she said, putting the book back down. "It's so much easier to understand if I do a bit of pre-reading first. That way, I can ask about anything I don't understand and do some side reading."

I just nodded and opened my book. Flipping through the pages, I glanced up at Amber. I didn't notice it earlier, but she was shivering.

"Are you cold?" Again, the words slipped out of my mouth, and I mentally kicked myself. Of course she was cold, she was shivering.

"I'm fine." No, she wasn't. She was wringing her hands against the cold, and I noticed she was still wearing her day robes. I bit my tongue. I wasn't going to say what I wanted to say. I went back to my book.

I was maybe able to focus for a minute when Amber took a ragged breath. Shrugging off my robe, I held it out for her to take. She didn't touch it.

"Take it," I said, shaking it. "You're freezing."

"I'm fine," she snapped. I looked at her, looked at the robe, and looked at her again. Before I knew what I was doing, I walked over to her, threw my robe over her shoulders, and returned to my seat. Picking up my book, I feigned curiosity over something. I'm not sure what, I didn't bother actually looking, and I just didn't want to get glared at.

When I finally gained the courage to peek at Amber, she was still reading her book, but she had pulled my robe closer. I smirked, but that only lasted a second before I saw she was still shivering.

"Here, let me restart the fire," I said, reaching for my wand. I couldn't find it. I started digging through the couch cushions before I remembered that I left it in my room. Amber giggled.

"I didn't even realize it went out," she said, pulling out her wand and standing up to tend the fire. Within seconds, she had the fire roaring again, but instead of returning to her chair, she came and sat beside me. "You look cold now."

I shrugged. In truth, I was cold, but Amber was positively blue around her lips. We sat side by side, reading our books in silence with the roaring fire keeping us warm. Actually, I wasn't reading. I kept looking at Amber out of the corner of my eye.

"Would you like to go to the Yule Ball with me?" Again, I blurted without thinking. Amber glanced at me, and I think she blushed. It could have just been the heat of the fire finally warming her up, but I don't k now.

"Sure," she said. I felt the blood drain from my face. I was not expecting that.

"Are you sure?" I sputtered. "I mean, if you don't want to, you don't have to…"

"No, no, it's fine," Amber said, closing her book. "I mean, I probably wouldn't go otherwise." She stood up and headed to her dorm. "I'll see you tomorrow."

I stood up when Amber did, but as soon as the door to the girls' dorms closed, I fell into my seat in shock. I was terrified of what she could be plotting.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

George gripped his wand tighter and slammed the current owner to the wall. The poor man whimpered, but George didn't care. He was trying not to think about the orange banners declaring a Going Out of Business sale or the empty shelves. But the general emptiness of the store and the complete lack products that defined the business were grinding on George's nerves. Out of everything that he left behind, George had hoped his store would have continued to flourish.

"George, let the bloke go," Ron said, grabbing George's arm and pulling it down. "Cursing the snot out of him isn't going to help anything."

George ignored Ron. Instead, he tightened his grip on the man's robes and pushed him harder into the wall.

"Well!" George yelled. "What the hell did you do to my shop!?" The man was sputtering, and his face was turning an unusual shade of purple. Suddenly, George dropped him and began hustling around the shop, throwing boxes and tearing down signs. The current shop owner scurried after him.

"What are you doing?" he squeaked. He didn't try to stop George, but continued to scurry as George demolished the remainder of the shop. Ron stood back, his face a mask of horror and shock.

"I'm taking my shop back," George roared, throwing Ron a dirty look. Ron quailed. "I sold it to you under the impression that if I came back, it would be as prosperous as it was when I left. Not about to go out of business."

"You can't do that!" The shop keeper began putting stuff back on the shelves and hanging back up the posters. "We can't afford rent this month. We need to sell everything and get out." George swirled back to the shop keep, wand menacingly pointed at the quavering man's heart.

"I paid the rent forward for two years!" George roared. "That should have given you more than enough time to reestablish a reputation with your products, not tank the entire thing!" With a sweep of his wand, George sent everything flying out the door, including the shop keep. With another flick, he locked the door.

"George, what do you think you're doing?" Ron asked, keeping well away from his brother for safety's sake.

"I'm taking back what is mine." George disappeared to the back room. Ron sighed and followed him.

"You sold the shop to that bloke, you can't just take it back."

"Watch me," George muttered. There was nothing in the back. Absolutely everything was gone. "When I sold it to him, I made him sign a contract to give Mum a small percent of the profits. But I also had a clause in it that said if he failed to make a certain amount of money each year, any Weasley could come and take it back from him, no questions asked."

Ron groaned. George ignored him and continued to scour the shelves for any neglected remainders of Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes products.

"Did he sell everything?!" George turned back around and stomped back to the main room. He grabbed one of the clearance signs that had escaped and prodded it with his wand. The words began rearranging, leaving instead a notice of change of ownership and an expected opening date. Hanging it in the door, George turned to Ron.

"Let's go," he said, tucking his wand up his sleeve. "If I'm going to get this store back on its feet, I need to get home and start working on products again. I think I had some left over that I stored in my room..." George kept mumbling to himself as walked out of the shop and past the old shop keeper. Ron hurried after George, mumbling a "Sorry" to the shop keep as they went.

"You can't even open your bedroom door," Ron said. He bumped into people as he chased after his brother. George just kept striding towards the Leaky Cauldron, either miraculously avoiding the people or having people step out of his way in shock. Ron got stuck behind a large group of school age kids and lost track of George.

"Bloody hell," he muttered, running into people as he tried to catch up. "Mum's going to murder me." He found George standing outside the door of the Leaky Cauldron, still deep in thought and loaded down with a bag from the apothecary.

"How did you find time to stop at the apothecary?" Ron asked. George ignored him, ducking into the pub and heading to the fireplace Tom said they could use when they were done for the day. Taking a pinch of Floo Powder, George threw it into the fireplace and stepped in, leaving Ron sputtering behind him and completely flustered. As soon as he knew he wouldn't emerge on George's heals, Ron grabbed a pinch and followed.

When Ron emerged from the fireplace, George was nowhere to be seen. Grumbling under his breathe, Ron started wandering through the house looking for his brother. George was nowhere to be found on the first level, and Ron headed upstairs with a knot in his stomach. If George had vanished again, Ron was dead. Mrs. Weasley would murder him, then dig him up and murder him again.

Ron got to the landing outside George's room, expecting to find George standing there, hand poised on the handle, a hard look of concentration on his face as he attempted to open the door. But the door was partially open, George nowhere in sight. Ron opened the door all the way and found George standing in the middle of the room, tears, rolling down his cheeks.

"Are you ok?" Ron asked, stepping behind George. George blinked away the tears and turned to look at Ron.

"I'm fine." George wandered over to what was Fred's bed and picked up a box. Shoving it into Ron's arms, he turned to his bed and picked up another box. "Let's head downstairs and figure out what I still have in stock." Ron turned to leave, but George stayed a second, staring at the familiar beds and walls. So much of his life was spent in this room, and half of that life was now gone.


	8. Chapter 8

I was a wreck the day of the Yule Ball. I hid it well, especially in the snowball fight with Ron and Harry beforehand, but I was freaking out. I still couldn't figure out why Amber had agreed to go with me, and she hadn't cancelled like I was hoping she would.

After Fred and I had trekked up to our dorm, I just sat on my bed for awhile, staring blankly at the floor. I still hadn't told Fred I was going with Amber. Fred had decided a long time ago that Amber was insane and had preoccupied himself with ignoring her. I wish I had decided to do the same.

"You are going to the dance, right George?" Fred asked. He had already gotten dressed and was looking at me with concern. "I mean, you're not going to sit here and pout because you don't have a date, you'll show?"

"Of course." I stood up. "I was just thinking about a new joke product, that was all." Fred gave me a peculiar look, but shrugged and headed to the door.

"I'll see you there, then." Fred left, and I started rummaging through my trunk for my dress robes. I stopped before pulling them on, knowing I still had a chance of ducking out before whatever horrible thing Amber could be planning took effect, but I decided to go through with it. Deep down, I knew there was a chance that Amber just agreed because she wanted to go, no ulterior motive included. Reckless as I was, I decided to go with that small percentage. I finished getting dressed and headed down to the common room.

Amber wasn't there yet, so I sat on the couch where I carelessly asked her. Most of the common room was empty; the dance was supposed to start in five minutes. Some of the last stragglers headed out of the portrait, leaving me with the youngsters who couldn't go. I heard the door creak from the girls' dorm and looked up.

Time stood still, and I probably looked like a cod fish. I had never realized how beautiful she was, she never flaunted it. She always wore school robes or really simple Muggle garb. But her dress robes were, I dunno, it was like they were made especially for her and nobody else. I don't even know how to describe it. It was just amazing. The robes were red and black, and the black was like an overlay on the top part of the dress. The bottom was completely pure red, lighter at the top where the black ended and gradually getting darker. And her hair, I never realized how long it grew since our first year. Once it got long enough, she always wore it up, eventually just piling it on her head. But tonight, I honestly can't explain it. Her hair was still piled on her head, but elegantly. Stray strands fell everywhere, and there were thingamabobs in her hair that glittered when she moved. She was so beautiful.

She scanned the common room with her silvery-gray eyes, earrings jingling softly, and paused when she found me. She smiled her half smile, and I almost melted. She started back down the stairs, and I regained enough feeling in my legs to walk to the bottom to meet her.

"You look beautiful," I whispered. She bowed her head.

"Are you sure?"

"I wouldn't lie." Her smile grew bigger. I offered her my arm. "Mind if I escort you to the Yule Ball."

"Not at all," she said, laying her arm across mine. Together, we walked across the common room to the portrait entrance, and I started to believe that maybe there wasn't something more than just a girl accepting an invitation to a dance.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"What are we doing with all these boxes again?" Ron placed the last box from George's room on the table and looked at George expectantly. George already had a long sheet of parchment in front of him along with the contents of one box.

"You are going to repack the products." George tossed the empty box to Ron, hitting him squarely on the nose. "I, on the other hand, am going to see what I still have left over from before I left and figure out how much more of everything I need to make to get the store back on its feet."

"Why do I have to repack the boxes?"

"Because it's my stuff." Ron reluctantly sat down at the other end of the table from George and started repacking the first box. They worked this way for awhile before Mrs. Weasley came in from where she was working in the gardens.

"What's all this? I thought you'd still be in Diagon Alley." She stood with her hands on her hips, staring down her two sons.

"I bought back the shop," George offhandedly said, tossing a box of Ton-Tongue Toffees to Ron. "Ron and I were just going through all the stuff I had stored in my room to figure out how long it would take to reopen it." Mrs. Weasley puffed up, ready to explode at Ron for letting George get anywhere near the old store, but she deflated when she saw the concentration on George's face. Maybe running the store again was just what George needed to get on with his life.

"Make sure all this stuff is gone before dinner," she said. She left the kitchen, leaving Ron staring at her gape mouthed.

"What did you slip into her tea?" Ron asked.

"Nothing." Ron shook his head and stuck some Patented Daydream Charms into another box.

"I thought she was going to kill me." Ron grabbed another empty box and began piling products into it.

"Nah, Mum wouldn't do that," George said. He glanced up at his younger brother. "Hey, what are you doing for a job now?" Ron dropped the Skiving Snackbox he was holding.

"Job?"

"Work? Employment?" George looked Ron squarely in the face. "You are out of school, you should have a job."

"I, um, I don't have a job." Ron looked at the kitchen sink, Snackbox back in hand, his ears burning red, and George threw him a pitying glance.

"Well, how about you work at the shop for awhile, you know, while I rebuild the stock and get everything going again," George said. Ron dropped the Snackbox again.

"Your serious, you'd give me a job?"

"Sure." George shrugged. "You're my brother, absent-minded garble that you are. It's the least I can do." He returned to cataloging stock, leaving Ron to ponder the offer.

They worked in silence for a few minutes before Ron spoke up. "Yea, I'd like the job."

"You sure?" George asked, not looking up from the batch of punching telescopes. "It won't pay well at first, and there will be a lot of back breaking work."

"I can do it." Ron stood up and stretched. "I'll be right back, I'm going to send Hermione an owl." George absently nodded, opening another box of joke shop products. As soon as Ron left the room, though, George took out another sheet of parchment and began scribbling what he needed to do to find Amber.

When Ron returned a few minutes later, George was halfway through the box, the To-Do list for finding Amber long gone. Ron sat down and continued repacking boxes.

"What are you planning on doing with these when we're done?" Ron asked, placing another completely packed box on another and moving them to the side.

"Well, I was thinking of starting a new batch of Canary Creams after dinner," George said. "And then..." he mumbled off as he jotted something down, then looked up at Ron. "I honestly don't know, Ron. I wasn't planning on getting my shop back. So let's just play it by ear, alright?"

"Sure." Ron looked at the pile of boxes completed, then turned his attention to the pile of boxes not yet gone through. "Er, would you like me to bring the complete ones to the shop?"

"Be my guest." Ron got up to leave. "Oh, and if you can find any records Milton might have kept when he ran the shop, bring them back." Ron nodded. Restarting the fire with a flick of his wand, he threw in some Floo Powder, grabbed some boxes, and disappeared into the fire.

As the last edge of the boxes vanished, George stood up and stretched. All these products were bringing back so many memories of the good times with Fred, and George felt some tears welling up into his eyes. Walking to the window, George watched the garden gnomes scurry about on their business. One gnome, however, wasn't scurrying, and George found himself fixated by it. He would have sworn that it was the same gnome that had stared him down that morning, but he couldn't be sure.

The longer George watched, the more he became certain that the curious garden gnome was the same one from that morning. Wandering to the door, he headed outside and over to where the gnome stood. Unusually, the gnome didn't scamper off, but stood and glared at George, as if challenging George to toss it over the garden wall. George didn't try and pick up the gnome, though. Instead, he crouched down next to it.

"You're an oddity," he whispered. The gnome continued to stare at him, then darted off to a gnome hole. George watched it, then noticed as flurry of something beyond the garden wall. Standing, he wandered over and stared across the meadow. At the beginning of the copse of trees, there was a leprechaun. And he was staring at George with unwonted curiosity.

George shook his head and looked again. The leprechaun was gone, and George began to wonder if it was just a trick of his mind. Still pondering this, he headed back inside to his boxes. He was still thinking about the leprechaun when Ron returned, and was still pondering it when Mrs. Weasley chased them out of the kitchen so she could cook.

Sitting down to dinner, George turned to his father. "Are there leprechauns in the copse of trees in the meadow?" Mr. Weasley choked down the bite of steak and kidney pie he had just taken and looked at his son.

"Not that I'm aware of, George. Why?"

"Oh, nothing, I just thought I saw one when I was out walking earlier." George took up his fork and began eating, pretending not to notice the glance he saw his father give his mother. George knew they were worried about him, but seeing leprechauns should not cause them to worry. George ate the rest of his meal in silence. When he was finished, he excused himself and headed to his room.

Laying on his bed, George stared at the ceiling for hours. He listened to Ron and Ginny climb the stairs for bed, and feigned sleep when Mrs. Weasley opened the door to make sure he was there and not vanished. But as the house settled down for the night, George didn't feel himself drift to sleep. He was so preoccupied by the leprechaun and the memories that haunted the room. Finally, he just grabbed his pillow and blankets and headed down to the couch. Curling up there, he stared at the empty fire place, one thought swirling in his mind.

Amber loved leprechauns.


	9. Chapter 9

When Amber and I arrived, the dance was already in full swing. I saw Harry and Ron sitting with their dates at one of the tables, and a bit away I saw Fred and Angelina tearing up the dance floor. I steered Amber to the other side of the dance floor, receiving odd looks from some of the dancers.

"People are staring," Amber whispered as we took a spot on the dance floor. I maneuvered her arms to hold her for the waltz and began dancing.

"It's because you're stunning," I whispered into her ear.

"You keep saying that, George, but you know it's not true."

"Believe what you want, Amber Bl-Halbert, but you know I speak the truth." She stopped dancing and glared at me.

"You almost spilled." I winced. I know I almost called her by her real name, but I caught it before I got too far into the word. I had hoped Amber hadn't caught it, though.

"I know, and I'm sorry. I just got caught up in the moment." She turned to leave, and I caught her arm. "Please, Amber, can't you just let all this bitterness go for one night and just enjoy yourself?" I felt her muscles tense under my fingers, and I feared she might wrench her arm out of my grasp and flee, but then her muscles relaxed and she returned to my embrace.

We danced the rest of the waltz, and the next three dances, in silence. As each second passed, I felt her relax more and more, and I began to relax as well. Something about this, her being so close to me, felt so right. I couldn't place my finger on it, but I just knew. When the fifth song began, Amber pulled back and looked into my eyes.

"Let's get something to drink," she said. I nodded, and she grabbed my hand and started pulling me towards the punch bowl. As we drew near, though, I saw Fred walk up to it with Angelina.

"Amber-" I began, but it was too late. We were already at the punch bowl.

"Hey, George, there you are, I thought you were still pouting in the room," Fred said, oblivious to the fact that Amber's hand was clasped gently in mine. Fred threw me one of his wild smiles, and then glanced over at Amber. He jumped, spilling his punch all over his robes.

"Galloping gargoyles!" Fred exclaimed. He tried to mop up the punch, and Angelina gave him a wary glance before turning her attention to Amber.

"Hello, Amber, I didn't know you were coming with George."

Amber shrugged, pulling her hand from mine to ladle some punch for herself and me. As she handed me my cup, though, Fred grabbed my arm.

"Can I have a moment with my dear twin, ladies?" he said, and pulled me to the side without waiting for an answer.

"What in Merlin's underpants do you think you're doing?" Fred hissed. "Why did you invite Amber to the dance? Are you off your flipping rocker?" He had my arm in a vice grip, and I took a second to pry his fingers off before answering.

"I didn't think," I answered. "I was in the common room late, so was she, and I just blurted it out."

"And you didn't try and get out of it?" I shrugged. It had crossed my mind a couple of times, but a smaller voice always encouraged me to go through with it. Fred sighed.

"George, this is Amber Halbert we are talking about here." I rolled my eyes. I was tired of hearing that. Fred opened his mouth to continue.

"Stop right there, Fred," I said. Fred shut his mouth, so I continued. "I know perfectly well who I asked to the dance, and I don't regret it. Amber might be slightly insane, and I am well aware of the type of stuff she's capable of, but we probably wouldn't know half of it if I wasn't so intent on playing pranks with her. And, honestly, I'm glad I played those pranks on her, and I'm glad I asked her to the dance." With that, I turned and left Fred standing there, open mouthed.

Amber was standing there talking to Angelina, and she actually looked happy. I walked up to her and lightly grabbed her wrist. "Wanna dance?"

"Sure." She placed her empty cup down and turned to walk with me to the dance floor. Tossing a glance over her shoulder, she said, "Nice talking to you, Angelina."

"Nice talking to you, Amber."

We got to the dance floor and started dancing. This time, though, I didn't try to pull us to the side. I didn't care who saw. I wasn't ashamed of asking Amber to be my date, and I wasn't going to let people think I was.

Amber must have realized I was agitated because she stopped dancing and grabbed my wrists. Without a word, she led me out to the gardens and to a bench. We sat down, and I stared at my hands.

"You don't have to keep acting like you want to be here with me." Amber said it out of the blue, and I sat there in a startled silence for a minute. "I know that's what Fred wanted to talk to you about, why you asked me of all people here. I'm not going to be embarrassed if you want to dance with somebody else."

"Why would you think that?" I turned to face her and found myself lost in her gray eyes. "I asked you because I wanted to ask you, and for no other reason. Fred just thinks I'm crazy after everything we've been through."

I saw her cheeks twitch as she smiled, and I knew what she was thinking about. The biting incident, the Lake Prank, the late night Owlery escapade, and all the others, every prank I either played on Amber or received. So many insane memories we had created during our five and a half years of schooling, and I honestly wouldn't have changed any of them.

"We have been through a lot," she whispered, looking away. I just nodded and stared down at my hands. We sat in silence for awhile, and then I saw Amber's hand reach over and take mine. "You're the closest thing I have to a friend."

I looked up and caught her eyes. There was a look of panic in her eyes, like she was afraid I'd disagree. I smiled. "We are friends, Amber."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

George woke with the dawn. Uncurling himself from his spot on the couch, he stretched and stood up. His mother wasn't up yet, but he could hear creaks that suggested his father had to work early. Shaking his head of the dreams that haunted his nights, George wandered outside.

The morning air was crisp, and George took a deep breath of it before scanning the yard and the meadow for the peculiar gnome and the mysterious leprechaun. Everything about the whole gnome/leprechaun thing felt like a dream, but George couldn't shake a feeling that it was very real. Sighing, he wandered over to the bench and sat down.

Sure enough, the odd little gnome came wandering over and sat down on the ground across from George. They just stared at each other for awhile, but then the gnome stood up and walked closer to George. He didn't move. Whatever the gnome wanted, it couldn't be too dreadful, could it? The gnome made it to George's legs and started climbing, but George still sat still. In all his life, he had never seen a gnome act like that. There had to be some reason why the gnome was doing this.

The gnome made it to George's shoulder, and George turned his head to look at it. It was pointing somewhere behind George, so George carefully turned to follow the gnome's finger, careful not to dislodge the gnome from its perch. The gnome was pointing at the tree copse. And there, barely visible in the early morning light, was the leprechaun.

George looked back at the gnome, just to make sure he wasn't the only one to see it. The gnome was definitely pointing at the leprechaun. George sighed. If the leprechaun and the gnome were plotting something to do with George, there was nothing he could do to stop it. Grabbing the gnome from his shoulder, George placed it on the bench.

"Thank you," he said, and he hopped the wall. He honestly did not know why he was following a gnome's advice and chasing down a leprechaun, but George felt like it was a sign. Amber absolutely loved leprechauns; she had been planning a journey to Ireland just for them. If there was a leprechaun by the Burrow, it had to be somehow connected with Amber.

George hadn't looked away from the spot where he had seen the leprechaun, but by the time he reached the copse of trees, it was gone. Frowning, George entered the trees and looked around, looking for some type of clue that would point him in the right direction. There was a small trail leading through the copse, and George walked over and looked at it. As far as he could see, there was not a leprechaun to be seen. Sighing in disappointment, he turned around to head back to the Burrow, but stopped when he saw a pair of eyes watching him.

"Hello?" George called out uncertainly. Now that he was in the copse, he wasn't sure following the gnome was a good idea. What if it wasn't a leprechaun, but something nastier? Still, though, there was something about this copse that called to him. Heading towards the eyes, George stopped when they moved. Stepping out of the brush was a leprechaun.

"I knew it," George muttered. The leprechaun didn't say anything, just held out his hand to George. Mutely, George held out his hand as well. Quick as a bullet, the leprechaun dropped something into George's hand and vanished. Confused, George looked down and paused.

In his hand was the necklace he had gotten Amber for her seventeenth birthday.

George curled his fingers around the delicate silver bauble and knelt to the ground, head bowed and tears flowing. He didn't know how long he stayed there, but when he finally stood up and left the copse, the sun was well above the horizon, and he could hear worried yells coming from the Burrow. Tucking the necklace into the pocket of his pajama bottoms, he headed back home.

He didn't really pay attention to where he was going; he knew the path well enough, and the leprechaun had given him much to think about. So he didn't notice when the searchers spotted him from the gardens, nor did he hear the squeak from Ginny and Hermione as they ran towards him. He did notice, however, when his sight was blocked by a mass of bushy brown hair and a sheath of red hair. He also noticed when he fell unto the hard ground.

"Where have you been?" Ginny asked when she finally pulled back. She and Hermione sat on their heels and stared at him. "Mum's in a right state. She sent Ron and Harry to check the shop, and she and Bill went back to the place you called a home."

"I didn't go far." George pushed himself up and brushed off his pants, slipping his hand in the pocket briefly to check that the necklace was unbroken. "I just took a walk to the copse of trees, that's all."

"Could have fooled us," Hermione snapped. She and Ginny also stood up and started walking back to the Burrow with George. "You've been gone for hours."

"What? What time is it?" George looked at the sky and tried to figure it out.

"Its ten in the morning." Ginny moved in front of George, turned to face him and stopped. "Mum thought you might have gone to the shop to get something when she didn't find you in bed, but when you didn't return or send a note, she woke the whole house and sent us searching."

George was shocked when he heard the time. He had been in the trees copse for three hours; it just didn't seem possible. Hermione laid a hand on George's arm.

"Is this about her?" she asked. Ginny gave Hermione an odd look before turning her attention back to George. Mutely, George nodded. He couldn't lie to Hermione. She knew the truth. Hermione just nodded slightly and removed her hand from George's arm. George started walking again, Ginny and Hermione keeping pace with him.

"What's going on?" Ginny finally asked. "Who's 'her?'"

"Amber." George and Hermione had said it at the same time: George subdued and lost, Hermione with confidence. Ginny gasped.

"Oh, George, I'm so sorry." George shook his head.

"It's not your fault, Ginny." He reached into his pocket and pulled out the necklace. "I found this in the copse. It brought back so many memories..."

"Can I see it?" Hermione asked. George handed it over, and Hermione studied the design. "This was a gift for her, wasn't it? Before she vanished."

"I gave it to her for her seventeenth birthday," George whispered. By then, they had reached the Burrow and were sitting on the bench where the gnome had pointed out the leprechaun earlier. "She was wearing it the last time I saw her."

They sat in silence for awhile. At one point, Ginny got up and sent an owl off to both Mrs. Weasley and Harry, but she soon returned. Hermione handed George back the necklace, and he tucked it back into his pocket.

"I have things to do," George suddenly said, standing up and heading to the door. Hermione and Ginny followed, but stopped in the kitchen as George went to his room. They were still there when George came down five minutes later with several boxes.

"George, we need to talk," Hermione said. George sat down and started going through the boxes, ignoring Hermione and Ginny. Ginny stood up, walked to where George was working and closed the box.

"What do you want me to say?" George sat up and payed attention. "Hermione, you're probably the only one who realized what was going on, but what do you expect me to do?"

"You can stop acting like you're the only one who cares about what happened to Amber," Ginny said, returning to her seat. "Mum keeps at Percy and Dad to find her."

"Ginny, its more than that," Hermione sighed before George could say anything. Ginny looked at Hermione, and Hermione just tilted her head to George. Ginny's mouth went round with shock. Before she could say anything, though, there was a loud crack, followed by an equally loud shout.

"Where in Godric's Hallow have you been? You've had me scared to death!"

"I'm fine, Mum," George gasped through Mrs. Weasley's death grip of a hug. "I just went for a walk and lost track of time." Mrs. Weasley pulled back and looked George in the face, trying to read the truth, but before she could figure anything out, the back door flew open with a crash and the rest of the Weasley clan, along with Harry, piled in.

"Where in bloody hell have you been?" Ron roared. George sighed. It was going to be along day.


	10. Chapter 10

I wanted something really special for Amber's seventeenth birthday. I really wanted to show her how much she had come to mean to me, but I didn't have much money. I barely had enough for her gift. But my mum stepped up to the occasion and made a luxurious picnic lunch for us.

I had arranged to meet Amber at King's Cross Station at 11:30 am. That would give her time to take her Apparition test and give us most of the afternoon to celebrate her birthday. When I got there, picnic basket on arm, she wasn't there yet. So I sat and waited.

"Sorry I'm late." I looked up. Amber was standing next to the bench, pretending to study the train schedule. I smiled and got up to stand next to her.

"No problem, I wasn't waiting that long." I picked up the picnic basket and started heading to the exit, but when I turned around, Amber wasn't following.

"Hey, are you okay?" I asked when I returned to her.

"I'm fine." She looked at the train schedule again before looking at me. "I just don't want you to feel like you have to do anything for me."

I shook my head, a grin on my face. Amber never believed that I wanted to hang out with her because I wanted to; she always thought it was because of something Fred said at the Yule Ball. I have had to reassure her so many times that I wanted to do something with her because I wanted to, not for some other reason.

"If I didn't want to be here, I'd still be at Grimmauld Place helping Sirius plan your birthday dinner," I told her, reaching into my pocket. Amber opened her mouth to say something, probably to protest the fact that her father was planning a birthday treat for her, but I interrupted her. "And I probably wouldn't have taken the time to buy this for you."

Amber stared at the little box in my hand, but refused to take it. I sighed. Grabbing her hand, I placed the box in her hand and whispered, "Open it."

"You don't need to buy me stuff, George."

"It's your birthday," I insisted. As soon as I let go of her wrist, I tucked my hands in my pockets so she couldn't give it back. "What type of friend would I be if I didn't buy you anything, especially on your seventeenth birthday?"

Amber half smiled and carefully opened the box. I was tense. I spent most of the summer trying to figure out what to get Amber, and about two days of searching before I found the perfect gift.

"George, this is too much." Amber interrupted my thoughts, pulling out the necklace I got her. It was two silver pieces in a type of sideways Egyptian eye form on a silver chain, with five opals cutting through the center of the eye. And some really small diamonds between the opals, but, hey, it was Amber's seventeenth birthday. She deserved something nice.

"Not on your seventeenth birthday," I said, taking the necklace and moving behind her. Before she could protest again, I hooked it around her neck.

"You need to return it, George, it's way too much."

"Nonsense." I grabbed the basket and hooked my arm in hers. "I'm not returning it. Now, let's go finish celebrating your birthday." She sighed, but she let me tug her back to the main road, and she left the necklace on.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Why didn't you leave a bloody note or something? Do you know what we went through when Mum told us you were gone again? Have you lost your mind?" Everyone was talking at once, and it was giving George a headache. He bowed his head to his hands and rubbed his temples.

"Back off, he said he was sorry!" George looked up to see who was defending him and saw Hermione between him and the rest of the group, hands on her hips in a very Mrs. Weasleyish manner. Ginny was next to her in a very similar fashion.

The noise seemed to stop temporarily, but it started right up again, Ginny and Hermione vehemently shouted counterarguments right back at Ron, Bill, and Harry. Percy, who had been dragged from work by Bill, sat down at the table next to George.

"Enjoying your first couple of days back?" Percy whispered. George looked at Percy curiously. It was the first time since George returned to the Burrow that he had seen his older brother.

"It would be better if they stopped fussing over me. I'm not going anywhere." Internally, George added a "yet" to that sentence. Once he got the shop back on its own, and figured out a plan of action, he would be right out that door looking for Amber. Percy stretched.

"Let somebody know before you go hunting for Amber." George flinched, and Percy chuckled. "C'mon, George, it's obvious you're planning something. Ron says you mumbled in your sleep the entire first night back."

"But how did you know I was going to hunt for Amber?"

"Because that's what you did last time." George waited, staring at Percy, the rest of his family and friends still arguing not far away. Percy sighed. "George, at least let me know when you leave. If something comes up, I need to know where to find you so I can let you know. And I need to think up a cover so Mum doesn't track you down."

"Why would you think to walk to the bloody copse of trees?!" Ron broke away from the argument and turned to George. "Are you off you're bloody rocker? A note would have been nice!"

"I'm sorry!" George stood and slammed his fists to the table. The room quieted down. "I didn't think I'd be gone that long! I fancied a walk. That's all. Next time, I'll leave you your bloody note."

George looked at his friends and family. Ron looked shocked, Mrs. Weasley looked ready to fuss over him, and Hermione had a knowing look on her face. Turning from the table, George fled up to his room.

He sat amongst the boxes and memories, pondering everything that has happened the past three days. Reaching into his pocket, George pulled out the necklace. The leprechaun was the most peculiar thing he had ever seen, and he had a feeling that wasn't the least of it. As George tried to figure out how the leprechaun came to possess the necklace, there was a knock at his door.

"Who is it?" he called out, hastily stuffing the necklace back in his pocket.

"Its me, mate." Harry opened the door and stepped in. "I have a feeling you've seen enough of your family for awhile."

"Hey, Harry." George grabbed a box from where it sat on the ground and started rummaging through it. Harry stood in the doorway for awhile, but wandered in and sat at the edge of one of the beds.

"There's something you're not telling us." George looked up. Harry didn't phrase it as a question, it was a point blank statement. Still, George wasn't quite sure how to react.

"Whatever gave you that idea?" George finally said as he turned back to the box.

"Just some things Ginny and Hermione said earlier."

George kept digging through the box. There was nothing in it he wanted, but he had to look busy. Harry just sat there waiting for George to do or say something. Eventually, Harry sighed and shifted.

"I'll let Kingsley know Amber's still gone. I promised him I would when we found you anyways, since you might have been with her for all we knew." George shrugged. This was something he had to do. Harry and Percy could say they were going to help all they wanted, but, when it came down to it, George would be the one travelling the world looking for Amber. And when he found her, he wasn't going to let her vanish again.

"I'll find her," George whispered.

"I know you will, and I intend to help you however possible." George looked up, startled. He had forgotten that Harry was still there. Harry smiled at George. "Don't think you're the only one who cares about what happened to Amber. We became really good friends after Sirius' death. In fact, she's practically my sister."

George half smiled. He remembered well the times Amber and Harry were sitting in the common room talking before Sirius died. It made sense they'd become closer after Sirius' untimely death.

When George looked up again, Harry had vanished. With a sigh, he shoved the box aside and reached into his pocket once more. Pulling out the necklace, he let a tear escape. Staring into the opals, he swore to find Amber, no matter what the cost.

* * *

A/N: Oh, geez, its been forever since I updated last. Sorry, any loyal fans I might have. My computer got busted, so I went without for almost 2 months, and then I got a new computer just in time for my professors to bombard me with papers galore. It didn't help that I hit major writer's block in the main plot. But that's all worked out now. Don't expect anything until at least mid-May. Its the last week and a half of classes right now, so I have papers, projects, hearings, and exams up to my eyes right now. But thank you for reading, and please leave a review.


	11. Chapter 11

A few weeks into the term of our first year, I grew weary of just observing Amber's reactions when people drew attention to her. The reactions were fun and all, but they were predictable. So I decided to take matters into my own hands and force a different type of reaction out of Amber. Honestly, it was one of the worst ideas I had, but I'd do it all over again.

We were sitting in the common room. It was early enough where most people were either in the library or on the grounds, but it was starting to get late. Fred and I were debating where we would explore next, and Amber was curled up reading a book, as far away from everybody as she could get.

I kept throwing glances at Amber, and, before I knew it, I had grabbed a Fizzing Whizbee from the pile of snacks Fred and I were munching on, nudged Fred with my elbow, and headed over to where Amber was sitting.

"You hungry?" I held out the Fizzing Whizbee and waved it under her nose. She ignored me. I frowned and glanced back at Fred. He had a huge grin on his face and motioned for me to continue. I turned back to Amber.

"C'mon, you've gotta be hungry," I taunted, bringing the candy close to her nose and back. "I don't think you've eaten a proper meal all term."

"Bugger off," she muttered, flipping a page in her book. I smirked and held the treat directly under her nose.

"Come on, just eat it." Next thing I knew, Amber had put the book down and had clamped down on my finger, purposely missing the Fizzing Whizbee. I hollered in pain and tried to wrench my hand away, but she held on. Finally, she let go, grabbed her book and headed to the girls' dormitory.

"What was that for?" Fred said. He had run to my side and was staring at my bloody finger in shock. I just shook my head, wiped my finger on my robe, and went to wash it off. I still have a scar where her teeth broke the skin.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

George spent the rest of the day in his room going through boxes. Occasionally, he heard shouting from downstairs, but he refused to move from his spot. He couldn't go find Amber if his family didn't trust him to come back. Their reaction to his longer than expected walk proved this. For now, George would focus on getting his store back on its feet. On the side, he would try and figure out clues as to what Dumbledore had Amber doing. All of this would have to be done without any actual grunt work, though, and George made note to ask Harry for any information.

Around dinnertime, George finally made his way downstairs. His father, Percy, Harry and Bill were all back at work. Hermione was still there, sitting at the kitchen table and talking to Ron. George could hear Ginny and his mother talking in the other room.

"How are you feeling, George?" Hermione asked when she realized George had entered the kitchen.

"I'd be better if everyone would just stop worrying about me for a few minutes." George sat down at the table with his list of inventory. Pulling a scrap of parchment from his pocket, he started going over his list again, making note of items he needed to make more of and what materials would be needed. Ron shifted uneasily in his seat, but Hermione fixed George with a probing stare.

"You're not planning on another hunt for Amber, are you?" George flinched. Trust Hermione to get straight the core issue of why George even bothered to come back.

"Maybe eventually, but not right now," George muttered, ignoring Ron's jump and shout of, "What?" It was true, George was going to hunt for Amber once things quieted down here, but Hermione didn't need to know how far the plans were for this journey.

"George, where are you planning on looking that you haven't already looked? Do you have any idea where to start?" Hermione was digging deeper into an aspect of George's life he didn't want to discuss right now, and it was making him fidget. Ron was staring George down, almost as if he was expecting George to disapparate right then and there and continue this hunt.

"Hermione, I don't know anything more now than I did when I gave up two years ago." George looked up from his lists and met Hermione's gaze. "If I had any idea of where Amber could possibly be, do you think I would have been working as a Muggle janitor?" Hermione looked away. There was a pain deep in George's eyes that Hermione couldn't even begin to fathom.

"George, are you insane? If you go travelling around the continent again, Mum will kill you." George switched his gaze to his younger brother. Ron's face was whiter than usual, and George felt sorry for Ron. If George vanished while he was living at home, Mrs. Weasley would blame Ron for George's disappearance.

"I'm not leaving until I get some more information, Ron," George sighed. He wished he had brought a box down with him so he could bury himself in that instead of facing Ron and Hermione's accusing stares. Instead, he focused on the list, adding places to get the supplies to it. "Until then, I am getting the shop back on its feet, and I need your help to do it. Tomorrow, I want you to go get these supplies while I work on making the merchandise." George brandished the list to Ron, and Ron reluctantly took it.

"You're not trying to get me out of the way so you can vanish on me, are you?"

"Trust me, Ron, the last thing I want is another scene like today's. I will stay here and work on merchandise all day." George stood up and headed for the stairs.

"Aren't you going to eat anything, George? You've been in your room all day. You've got to be hungry." George looked at Hermione. He knew part of the concern was actually the fact that he hadn't eaten anything all day, but Hermione would also try and get more information on what he was planning on doing in regards to Amber, and George couldn't let what little plans he had become knowledge of his mother's, not yet.

"I'm not hungry, Hermione. To be honest, I haven't really been hungry since Fred died." Hermione frowned, but George ignored her and headed to his room. He needed to turn his small amount of plans into something more before he went to bed. When the new year started, George intended to be ready to leave at a moment's notice to find Amber.


End file.
